


You get a thorn with every rose

by FlorBexter



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bohn/Duen - Background, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26033206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorBexter/pseuds/FlorBexter
Summary: Frong looked up, the petal white as snow in his palm, and when the knowledge dawned in First’s eyes, he knew he was royally fucked.
Relationships: Thara/Frong
Comments: 18
Kudos: 155





	You get a thorn with every rose

**Author's Note:**

> **For the prompt: "Hanahaki Disease"**
> 
> [Here is a link to the Urban Dictionary](https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Hanahaki%20Disease) for a more in-depth description of the Hanahaki Disease
> 
> I haven't heard about this trope before and had to look it up and I think it's really an interesting fic concept. And tbh everything flower-themed fits our boy Frong :D
> 
> **Warning:** Due to the nature of the trope there will be a lot of coughing in this fic if that irks you please proceed with caution

Frong woke up with a rough feeling in his throat as if he had spent the whole night coughing. There was a burning sensation when he swallowed and he thought, as he walked to the tiny kitchen unit in his dorm room, that it would be the icing on the cake if he would have a cold after coming back from the volunteer trip.

He was about to pack most of his stuff up to return to his family home until the new term started. This time he returned especially for his mum to be there for her while she was recovering from the removal of the cyst and to help around the shop. He had no time for a cold.

“Tea, tea, tea,” he murmured and searched through his cabinet. The thought: “What would Thara prescribe him if he knew about his sore throat”, snuck into his head and he put the water kettle with a bit more force than necessary on the stove after he had filled it up.

If he ever would go to Thara for medical advice again they would have to bring him into the hospital kicking and screaming and yeah maybe he was being dramatic but there was this aching hurt in his chest and it spread through his whole body, prickling in his fingertips, the more he thought about Thara and what even was Thara’s deal to worm himself into his heart like that?

“What does that even mean ‘we are brothers’? We aren’t brothers, I have two brothers. I have my hands full with brothers.”

He coughed slightly and waited impatiently as his tea steeped.

Of course, he knew what Thara had meant. “We are friends, right?” Nothing more. Just friends. Which sucked. It sucked but he had to suck it up.

“Ha!”, he said and cursed when he burned his tongue on the hot tea and almost fell over his packed bag when he wanted to go back to his bed. It was like the last sign that he needed to go home and wrap himself up in a blanket, cuddled up next to his mum.

He put his hand around his throat as another cough shook his body. Did he still have the drops his mum gave him when he moved into the dorm?

His phone made a sound and he frowned at the pictures the engineer students had tagged him in. He had a few new friendship requests and if this volunteer experience wouldn’t have been overshadowed by Thara’s rejection he would most likely smile at the pictures and accept the requests but instead, he felt sad and confused and didn’t want to remember.

He felt his necklace heavier than ever around his neck but shook his head vehemently to ignore the memories who wanted to start playing in his mind. He tried to drink his tea as quickly as possible without scalding his mouth too much and wrapped everything up in his room to leave the dorm for a couple of weeks.

“Where are Mum and Fang,” he asked a few hours later as he walked into the flower shop and scratched Miette’s chin as a welcome. She immediately began to purr and stretched her fluffy, little body.

“At the temple,” First answered and pushed a plant pot against Frong’s chest. “Can you make a succulent arrangement?”

“I arrived two minutes ago!”

“Shape it like a heart,” was First’s only reply and Frong frowned at his back.

“I have a sore throat you know.” But, of course, his throat decided that it wasn’t in the mood to provide back-up for Frong. Accordingly. First glanced at him unimpressed and threw an apron at him, hitting him square in the face.

“Nice,” Frong murmured grumpily and walked towards their worktable. It wasn’t like that he didn’t want to help; he just didn’t want to help now. He had been on the search of his mum after he had found their home empty to get a sympathy hug and let her hush him into the bedroom. They could have fussed over each other.

First had already set out the different types of succulents and Frong rustled the package of soil around to communicate that he wasn’t happy, he even squinted at First but his brother was talking to a customer, so his passive-aggressive tactics were in vain. When had he lost his ability to act cute towards his brothers so they would let him get away with being lazy? Maybe when he grew to be one head taller than them?

Another cough started to itch in his throat, and he massaged his chest to get rid of it. Should he drink litres of tea or just accept the fact that he was at the start of a cold? The quicker he treated that cold the quicker he could actually support his mum and not be a burden when she had to look after him.

He opened his mouth to yell at his brother and ask if he had some cough medicine for him when the burning got too much, and a coughing fit rattled his body.

“Oh, I hate this,” he rasped and made a face when it felt like something was stuck in his throat.

A slap on his back made his lungs burn even more and turned around to swat at First.

“Don’t cough on my plants. I’m in the back, I think there are some cough drops, please take over the counter?”

“Don’t say it like a question,” Frong mumbled. Why wasn’t he allowed to search for the drops himself? Did First hid something in the office? As he walked from the worktable through the shop he had to cough again, the burn intensified, he struggled to get air and had to hold onto the wooden top of the counter to not lose his balance. Something tickled and scratched at the back of his mouth and with another cough he saw a tiny, white petal floating from his mouth and landing softly on his palm.

He stared at the petal in confusion.

What? Had he coughed up a petal?

The bell above the door chimed and Frong startled. He looked up and recognized Thara immediately, even before he was completely through the door and Frong squatted down to hide behind the counter without really thinking about it. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen him? His fist clenched around the petal in his hand and why couldn’t Thara order his flowers to be delivered?

Was someone not allowed to wallow in self-pity and heartache in peace for a few days?

“Hello?” Thara’s voice travelled through the shop and Frong heard his footsteps coming closer to the counter. He closed his eyes tightly and prayed that Thara was as police as ever and would just wait until someone was coming instead of rounding the counter.

“Thara?”

Frong had to admit it: he had awesome brothers. As much as he wanted to make them stop breathing in his direction most of the time, they had each other’s back whatever happened. And as First saw his younger brother hiding, he didn’t even look at him just walked towards their new customer and acted like nothing was wrong.

“P’First,” Frong heard Thara say and he knew he did a Wai towards his brother. Damn police handsome… bro-zoner.

“Are you here for your order?”, First asked.

“Yes. Twelve bundles of jasmines. As always.”

“As always,” First repeated and the slight kick he gave Frong as he walked past him to get to the box of pre-ordered flowers was totally on purpose. Frong listened as First and Thara chatted for a bit after Thara had paid and his heart stopped for a Moment when Thara asked about him.

“I thought Frong would help out in the shop during the break?”

“Oh…” First said and Frong held his breath, “he plans to but today he’s with our mum at the temple.”

Frong patted First’s leg in thanks.

“I see. Maybe I will see him next time, and please give my regards to your mother.”

“I will.”

Frong looked up to see how First waved goodbye at Thara and when the bell above their shop chimed First looked down at him.

“What was that about?”, he asked and Frong wanted to answer but another cough wracked his body, he dry-heaved, burning pain in his throat and three white petals landed on his outstretched hand, settling down to the other one.

“What the hell?”

Frong looked up, the petal white as snow in his palm, and when the knowledge dawned in First’s eyes, he knew he was royally fucked.

They knew about the _Hanahaki Disease_ , of course, they did, they were florists after all. Frong had been seven when a woman had come into their shop to ask for help to identify the flower she coughed up. He had no idea what had happened to her and it was a weird memory to have while your brother tried to look down your throat with the flashlight of his phone.

“Say _ahhhh,”_ First demanded and Frong knew that he wasn’t going to see anything but even though First was the smallest brother among them, he was also the one who had no qualms about pinching soft and vulnerable places.

“I can’t see anything,” he murmured after a while and Frong was allowed to close his mouth again. He suppressed the desire to say, “I told you so”.

“I have to go and see a doctor for a safe diagnosis,” he said instead and First nodded.

“We can take my motorbike; I’m going to close the shop for the day.”

Frong grabbed First’s wrist as he was about to walk towards the door, looking down at his phone as if he wanted to call someone.

“Don’t tell mum for now. I don’t want to worry her.”

“You are coughing up goddamn flowers!”, First shout-whispered but put his phone back and hurried to the door to flip over the sign to closed. “We will go to the hospital, get a diagnosis and then I will call mum, with or without your approval.”

* * *

“It’s the _Hanahaki Disease_ ,” the doctor said and Frong almost rolled his eyes. As if it would be something else when he had coughed up not only the petals but whole jasmine flowers during the examination. And yes, it was as painful as it sounded. And yes, the way First had eyed the flowers, knowing what kind they were, made the whole affair even more painful. And a bit embarrassing.

He resolutely ignored the glances First threw him.

“When can I get the surgery?”, he asked, and the doctor had clearly not anticipated his question because he blinked at him surprised.

“With the Hanahaki Disease we have to act quickly, yes, but are you sure there isn’t—”

“No,” Frong said as even as possible and more or less snatched the papers from the nurse’s hands. He wasn’t going to discuss his love life, or lack therefore, with his doctor. It was painful enough that he had the ultimate proof that his feelings were unrequited, he didn’t need the pity from someone with a gleaming golden wedding ring on their finger.

The doctor cleared his throat, obviously thrown off his path.

“We want to admit you to the hospital immediately and before we can operate, we need to x-ray your lungs to see how many flowers have already grown. We have an extra wing in the hospital for cases like you, complete privacy guaranteed.”

“Complete privacy guaranteed,” First said as he walked through the spacious hospital room, “I wonder what happened in the past, that that kind of measures are necessary.”

“Beats me,” Frong mumbled as he changed into the hospital gear. His mum would bring him a big with his stuff because the first thing First had done after the doctor had left them alone to fill out the paperwork had been to phone their mother. Frong was more nervous about her coming than what the x-ray would say about the development of his disease.

She was going to ask questions.

“So,” First said and bounced a bit on the hospital bed, “unrequited love, mhm?”

Oh yes, he had forgotten there was someone else with him here who would ask questions.

“Looks like it,” he answered and frowned because First sat on the bed and had blocked his way to just hide under the covers from unpleasant questions and this reality.

First pursed his lips and looked him up from head to toe.

“I didn’t know you were in love.”

I didn’t either, Frong thought, a bit helplessly. His feelings for Thara had blind-sided him and had whacked him on the head at the same time and he still couldn’t believe that he was coughing up flowers now because of him.

What a disaster.

“I know you said there is no chance but…”

Frong sighed and sat down next to his brother.

“There isn’t. That’s why I have this, remember? Unrequited love. Even if I walk up to that person, I can’t force them to love me back, right? That’s not how this works.”

“But your feelings will disappear, too… isn’t that sad?”, First said, subdued.

“As sad as me suffocating because flowers fill up my lungs?”, Frong said deadpanned and First made a _“you have a point”_ gesture.

As he laid in his hospital bed that night and stared at the ceiling he wondered if this disease was a form of punishment. Had he wished for too much? Was it considered a bad thing to fall for two people from the same family? Why hadn’t the illness appeared after he had given up on Duen?

He moved and he felt a tuck on his arm and got reminded of the needle in the back of his hand where a drip was slowly putting medicine in his body. It was supposed to reduce the number of flowers in his lungs as much as possible before the operation and he raised his other hand to lay it on his chest. Could he feel the flowers withering up in his body?

He moved his hand upwards over his eyes and bit down hard on his lip. He was not going to cry. He was not going to cry!

How long had he known Thara? His feelings for him might have grown fast, might have knocked him on his ass and he had felt devasted and _crushed_ after his rejection but why? Why was he also punished with this disease?

He breathed in, shaky.

But he was going to get over this. He had survived worse. What was better than getting these feelings literally carved out of him? He would be able to be near Thara without the messiness of his feelings, could be the _brother_ he wanted him to be, could be near someone he never would have thought could understand him so well.

He felt safe with Thara. He felt safe to talk about… _everything_ and even before he had known they were both scarred with the deaths of their fathers he had known he could tell him about it.

Which should have been a clue all on its own. That he had told Thara about his father, about the loss they still felt so deeply, that everything they did since then as a family felt so bleak.

Okay, so he had felt more for Thara than he had wanted to admit, even now, but it was fine. _It was fine._

This was the best possible outcome, and he told himself that the wet stain on his cheek travelling towards his neck didn’t burn.

* * *

Frong stared down at the spare meal on the little tray. The hospital food wasn’t bad per se, but they ordered him a bland diet to lessen the strain on his body that had to battle against the flowers.

He put the spoon in the porridge-like something in the bowl but then sighed and pushed the tablet away. He wasn’t hungry anyway. If everything went according to plan the operation was soon anyway and after that, he could eat whatever his heart desired, his mum would certainly make a fuss and he would bask in that as long as she would let him. The doctor had told them that the recovery after the operation wouldn’t take long and that he would be able to go to university for the next term with no problem but if his family wanted to pamper him he wouldn’t stop them.

It was…

A knock on the door made him look up and bewildered Frong said: “Come in.” The doctor's visit had been hours ago, and he had twenty more minutes before they would collect the food tray so…

A dark mop of hair peeked through the crack of the door and Frong blinked at Duen.

“Just open the door,” Bohn’s unmistakable voice was heard from behind Duen and after something that sounded like a skirmish, they both stumbled into the room.

Frong stared at both of them because he had no idea why they would be here.

“P’Yim,” Duen said and did a Wai, what a surprise to see you here!”

Frong’s eyebrow travelled up. Bohn seemed to be confused as well because in the middle of a half-hearted Wai he looked at Duen and said: “Surprise? We heard about… _mhmmmm_!”

Duen had quickly put a hand over Bohn’s mouth and smiled nervously at Frong at and it was to his luck that he was cute because he wasn’t really sly, Frong thought with a fond smile.

“What are you two doing here?”

Duen smiled even wider and then glanced at Bohn who had his arms crossed in front of his chest and frowned heavily at his boyfriend.

“Ehrm… you see… Bohn got into a fight and I brought him here to see if he needed stitches.”

He pulled his hand away and Frong saw the cut on Bohn’s chin.

“A fight?”, Frong asked but got interrupted by a Bohn who lifted his injured chin and said like it was a dare: “We heard you cough up flowers?”

“Bohn!”, Duen hissed and pushed his elbow in Bohn’s side.

“I do,” Frong said drily before an uncomfortable silence could spread out between them. It fit in his weird new life that Duen and Bohn of all people found out about it.

“It’s the Hanahaki Disease. How did you find out?” He gestured towards the chairs on the little table across from his bed and as if his acknowledgement had flipped a switch Duen was all eager and curious medical student now, pulling a chair up to sit on it next to Frong’s bed.

“We searched for an empty treatment room so I could look at Bohn’s wound and then we overheard two nurses talking about you…”

“And I really wanted to see if you cough up flowers,” Bohn added and even though Frong could appreciate his honesty he still wanted to smack him on the head with a pillow.

“We’re really sorry we invaded your privacy like that,” Duen said with another Wai but Frong waved his apology away.

“Just buy me a cake and we’re even.” He had meant it in a way that implied heavily that he would like to have a cake after he had left the hospital but Duen was already out of the room after he had said “Behave!” to Bohn.

Both of them stared at the closed door and then glanced at each other. Bohn quickly looked away and played with a hole in his jeans.

“Hanahaki Disease, huh?”, he asked and Frong stared at Bohn for a few seconds and then scoffed. Wanted to see if he coughed up flowers… as if.

“It isn’t Duen.”

Bohn’s head whipped around so fast he had to experience whiplash from it.

“What did you say?”

Frong rolled his eyes. “You’re here because you think Duen is the cause for my disease, right? You can drop the act.”

Bohn bristled at that and if Frong would roll his eyes any harder it would cause permanent damage.

“Do you think I will do a heart-breaking confession in an attempt to make him fall in love with me? Don’t worry, Duen isn’t the reason for this.”

Bohn opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue with Frong about his feelings, but, in the end, just frowned heavily at him.

“It’s not Duen?”

Frong leaned forward to flick Bohn against the ear.

“Hey!”

“Start listening to people. It’s not Duen.”

Bohn rubbed his ear and mumbled something incomprehensible. He was lucky Frong didn’t hear him because he felt angry and desperate and had the feeling it would feel good to hit Bohn with his pillow a couple of times. It seemed like a permanent wish around Bohn.

“So, if it’s not Duen, who is it?”, Bohn asked at last.

“None of your business,” Frong said and it was very important that Bohn and Duen would not figure out that it was Thara because he had the feeling they would come up with a plan and that would just end in humiliation for Frong. He had an operation in two days to get the flowers out of his lungs because he was unlovable and that was bad enough.

“Don’t you think it would be better to take your chance and confess instead of…” Bohn waved his hand around, “enduring this?”

Frong to a deep breath, because he really, really wanted to strangle Bohn but instead used his hands to rub his face. Maybe the medication made him mellow.

“I already got my rejection, okay? The _Hanahaki Disease_ is caused by unrequited love.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bohn still frowned at him and Frong knew that they had different approaches when love seemed unrequited. And it was great that it had worked out for Bohn and Duen but Thara… Thara was already burdened with enough responsibility. Frong knew how personally he took the fates of his patients, how he cared, how he used his own money to buy flowers to cheer his patients up. Frong couldn’t bear the thought that Thara would try to love him just to heal him.

Frong would do this operation, would get the flowers out of him and the useless feelings with them and then he could be Thara’s friend without any restrains.

“I’m back,” Duen announced as he walked into the room, and waved with the cakebox, and then stopped in his tracks to look between them. “Did you fight?”, he asked suspiciously.

“How can we fight when we don’t talk?”, Bohn said and pulled at Duen to sit down next to him again. “What kind of cake did you get?”

“Strawberry cheesecake, hands off!” Duen slapped Bohn slightly on the fingers when he tried to steal the box, which didn’t seem to face Bohn in the slightest and Frong hid a smile behind his hand. They were cute, he thought and thanked Duen when he gave him a fork.

“Oh wait, is it okay for you to eat cake?”, Duen asked while he used his elbow to stop Bohn from stealing the strawberries.

Frong nodded. “I’m allowed to eat.”

* * *

How will it feel like, he asked himself as he laid in his bed that night, again, staring at the ceiling, his eyes already heavy and almost closed. How will it feel when his feelings for Thara are gone?

Would he feel a loss? Would it be like a reboot, no memories of his feelings? How could someone operate feelings out of him?

He turned to the side, careful of the intravenous drip.

It was a bit unfair. He yawned. How was it possible that this kind of disease existed but there was no way for him to suddenly get the ability to fly or talk to animals.

Really unfair.

He fell asleep and didn’t hear how the door to his room opened slowly.

When he awoke hours later, the daylight already illuminating his room, he blinked, and he knew that he looked at Thara. He knew it the same way he had recognized him the moment he had come through the shop door. But seeing him and his brain making the connection that he really was here, sitting next to his hospital bed, slumped over, sound asleep was something completely different.

Frong raised a hand and pinched himself in the cheek and ow, that hurt.

He wasn’t dreaming.

He jerked upwards, and as the blanket rustled, he made himself stiff, not moving any muscle. Thara was still asleep.

What was he doing here?

Duen… Duen must have told him about his illness, there was no other explanation. And now he was here because he was a good friend and wanted to support Frong and if he had brought him jasmines to cheer him up Frong would throw a fit.

Hadn’t his doctor promised him guaranteed privacy? The way Bohn and Duen found out about it gave the impression there was an hourly announcement in the hospital about him and what ailed him.

He had to disappear and make it clear to the hospital staff that no one, despite his family, was allowed to see him until the operation was done. Especially not Thara and they could do with that information what they want. With this resolution in his mind Frong slowly and carefully put the blanket away and slid towards the edge of the bed. His toes almost touched the ground.

“You shouldn’t move around.”

Frong froze.

Damn Thara. He always appeared at the worst possible moments for Frong. He was drunk and hit his head? Thara was there. He was the sad third wheel at an ice cream date? Thara was there.

“You know I can still see you?”

Frong made a face at the empty air. His heart was pounding wildly, almost hurtful, and he put his legs back onto the bed and grabbed the blanket to cover them.

He slowly, very slowly turned his head. 

Thara wore a dark blue shirt, beige pants, he didn’t wear a coat, but his employee card was attached to his shirt. He looked at Frong the same way he always did, friendly, but with a teasing twinkle in his eyes, hiding the devil behind a polite smile.

They had never hugged, the closest they had ever been had been Thara’s finger close to his neck, touching the sensitive skin there lightly while he clasped his necklace together. They had never hugged but for a moment Frong was sure to remember that he would feel better if he could just fall into Frong’s arm and hide his face against his chest. He always had the thought that Thara would be a great hugger.

“Did Bohn or Duen…?”, he asked because he needed to know who he had to blame for this.

Thara shook his head. “Your brother told me.”

Damn First! He hadn’t said anything about the flowers being jasmines, Frong should have known that had been weird. He fisted his hand in the blanket and pressed his lips together.

Why was Thara here? Did he really know he was the trigger for the disease? Was this a pity visit? How much had First told him and how much could Thara guess?

If First had really told him that he was the trigger… Frong pressed his lips even harder together, he wasn’t going to confirm a thing. Thara could take his friendliness and could put it where the sun—

“Did you know that the _Hanahaki Disease_ is mostly known as a psychological illness?”

Frong frowned and battled with himself if he should look up or not and then stiffened when Thara, slowly, carefully put his hand over his clenched one. He stared at Thara’s hand and then jerked his head to the side to realize that the drip wasn’t attached to his hand anymore, the rack pushed back into the corner with the rest of the medicine still in the bag.

“My medicine,” he said and for a moment the world stood still and there was only the rushing sound of his blood in his ears.

“You don’t need it anymore,” Thara said and Frong felt his other hand on his cheek, warm, and even though it felt comforting Frong wanted to push it away.

“The _Hanahaki Disease_ is a psychological issue taken physiological form, born from the belief of the patient their love is unrequited, regardless of the truth behind their conviction.”

Frong opened his mouth because he wanted to remind Thara about what had happened at the volunteer camp but Thara took his hand in both of his and he saw how someone had put a plaster on his hand and he wanted to concentrate on that. On the plain brown plaster on his skin instead of what Thara was implying.

_“Regardless of the truth behind their conviction.”_

“Frong.”

Slowly, carefully, Frong freed his hand and then slid under the blanket, pulling it up until he was completely covered by them. He actually wanted to bury his head in the pillow and scream because what Thara was implying was _it_ , right? Heat was rushing through his body, part happiness, part embarrassment and he still couldn’t believe that Thara was constantly putting him in this messy state. He wasn’t like that normally, he was confident, cocky, a bit of a flirt… but this. He never felt so flustered in his life.

“You know that, again, I can still see you?”

Frong nodded slowly and despite his burning face he put the blanket down a bit and glanced at Thara, who had put one elbow on the bed and was studying him, closely. Chin in one hand.

“You are a man of extremes, you know? Running against a sign, following someone to a volunteer camp all alone… convincing yourself of the _truth_ so much to get a life-threatening disease.”

“You bro-zoned me!”, Frong exclaimed because that was a thing that had happened!

Thara stared at him for a moment and then leaned back again, with his hand in front of his face, a huge sigh escaping him. His ears were red and Frong felt secure enough to expose his flushed face fully.

“You followed Duen to the volunteer camp,” Thara said, and his voice sounded a bit rough. “I wasn’t going to ask you out in that place.”

“I went to the camp because of you,” Frong said and why shouldn’t he admit it? Freaking flowers had grown in his lungs because of Thara, soul-baring was nothing in contrast to that.

Thara let his head fall with a silent laugh and how lame was it that Frong was the one who had gotten the disease? Thara had misunderstood him as well.

“Come here,” Thara said suddenly and moved the chair closer to the bed, his arms already outreached and before Frong could react he was pulled upwards and his nose hit Thara’s collarbone.

“Ouch,” he mumbled but his body and mind didn’t care about the pain, he was working on autopilot, burying his face even deeper against Thara’s throat, his arms around him and when he felt Thara’s hand on his nape, big and warm he felt a tiny shudder through his body.

“When they will do another x-ray, they won’t find flowers anymore, right?”, he asked, more of a whisper against Thara’s skin than actual words.

“They won’t”, Thara said, his warm breath a tickle on Frong’s ear and Frong breathed in, sweet air filling his lungs, and out.

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you had fun <3


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